


The Heist

by YellowWomanontheBrink



Series: Community: Norsekink [5]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: norsekink, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowWomanontheBrink/pseuds/YellowWomanontheBrink
Summary: Spoilers up to Chapter 8 of Deep, Deadly, Domestic Vice.Modi steals the Tesseract.





	The Heist

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Deep, Deadly Domestic Vice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067645) by [YellowWomanontheBrink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowWomanontheBrink/pseuds/YellowWomanontheBrink). 



> Wow, my sense of time is rational. I said two weeks later and here I am at the end of the month! So, this was a gift fic I had written as I wrote chapter eight and decided I would share if domestic vice broke 100 comments, which it did! 
> 
> It's imperative that you read Deep, Deadly, Domestic Vice or else this won't make any sense at all. Click previous on the series! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: The underage warning is because Modi is a little over fourteen by asgardian reckoning, and it applies near the end of the fic.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know if y'all are interested in reading the other one-shots I've written for this universe!

“Bye Baldur!” Modi waved goodbye excitedly at his only, best friend. He ran two steps, hefting his staff, before stopping and looking back hesitantly. “Are you sure you don’t want to say hello to fore? I’m sure they miss you…”

 

Baldur’s smile became a little strained, and the younger warrior drew slightly into himself. Despite being a whole seventy years older than Modi, the young man was far more timid. Modi sometimes wondered why he even  _ wanted _ to be a warrior. Moi personally thought he would make a better healer.

 

Besides, he was terrified of Loki. Modi didn’t understand why, because, sure, his fore could be a little scary, but they  _ had _ to. Loki treated his only friend with disdain because of it, but Modi intended for Baldur to become his blood brother when he earned his mantle and helm, so Loki had better learn to love him. 

 

Since Baldur was so much older, he’d already passed the first of his trials and earned his mantle; his was white of course. Only he could be so pure to convince an elderly unicorn to sacrifice its skin upon death. He was practically impervious because of it. 

 

Modi forced down the sharp well of envy and shrugged. Loki had not sponsored him to earn his mantle yet, and though he was little young to go on a Warrior’s Quest, Modi felt he was plenty ready. 

 

“Okay then.” He practically ran, down, down, past the gilded walls, past the tapestry halls, to the old wing just before the prison and the vault where his fore had staked their claim. 

 

Asgard had more need of warriors than ever, after all. Their heir and Crown Prince had fled, and their Allfather was feeble. 

 

The great dark doors opened before Modi even raised his hand to knock. 

 

Sigyn was in the sitting room ironing. Modi waved jauntily at her and dashed into the inner chambers. Loki was waiting.

 

They laid lazily on the chaise beside the neatly made bed, a long thin pipe between their lips. Their hair and state of dress was as immaculate as always. Modi hastily brushed his hair, which had been mussed by the spar. 

 

They gestured for him to come closer, and Modi hesitantly obliged. Loki rarely called on their son so hastily, as it made for a bad image to the nobility of Asgard to see their prince at the beck and call of a foreigner. And despite all their years in Asgard, most aesir saw Loki as a foreigner. They had not assimilated half as well as the Allmother, nor did they want to.

 

“Kinomme,” Loki said, “You’re a mess.”

 

Modi blushed and shrugged. “I was sparring with Baldur just before.”

 

“And he didn’t even stop to say hello. What a pity.” 

 

Modi rolled his eyes in exasperation, and squawked when Loki smacked him soundly on the back of his head and yanked him to sit between their legs. They nimbly unbraided the warrior braids and wielded a comb like a weapon, deftly untangling the knots and preparing to brush out the dirt. 

 

“I have a quest for you, Kinomme,” Loki said, strokes smooth and unhurried. Modi’s heart began to race with excitement— a quest!

 

He tried to sit up and was promptly smacked down with the comb. “To where?”

 

“I think the better question is for what?” Loki replied, and Modi could hear the grin in their voice. “We have been held under siege for years now by the vermin from between the worlds. I think, at last I have found the solution.”

 

“A way to rebuild the Bifröst?” Modi looked up questioningly. 

 

Loki shook their head. “A way to shut that path forever.”

 

It had all started three years ago, when the Warriors Three, led by the Lady Sif, had on the order of Odin Allfather, quested to Midgard and retrieved an object of great power, and brought it to Asgard for safekeeping. Loki didn’t know what it was, but Modi did. All Loki had were suspicions, and the certainty that with it came the Dark Elves. 

 

They’d descended upon Asgard and committed wholesale slaughter, totaling every island on their way to Gladsheim, the capital, and when they arrived, they slaughtered the Queen effortlessly. 

 

They’d tried to do the same to Loki, but they’d donned their jotun skin and masqueraded as an enemy of the aesir. 

 

Modi had fell into his first berserk then, and killed so many of the enemy with blade and fire (the only magic he had any real talent for) that he had forever held the love of the aesir. With Odin in the Sleep and Frigga slain, and his fore undercover and dissimilating the elves, Modi had had to step up, and claimed the regent throne of Asgard himself. 

 

And then, Loki had slain Malekith before the court. Modi sent Lady Sif and a contingent of einherjar to Svartalfheim with his fore as their guide, and they laid waste to the planet, leaving no man, woman, or child alive. 

 

When Loki returned, he seized Heimdall’s sword and turned the Bifröst upon it, burning the planet to little more than ashes and space dust. 

 

They’d thought that was the end of it, but Sif and her Warriors had the confidence of the Allfather, not Loki, and with them they’d brought back a primordial power no finite being should know.

 

The Aether, the Reality Gem. It was safely sealed in the vault, along with other stolen relics Odin had amassed over the years. 

 

Sif was enamoured of Thor, Modi knew, and saw much of his father in him, and so loved Modi as well, however much she hated Loki. She, as the greatest warrior of her generation besides his father, who’d been absent from Asgard almost as long as Modi could remember, had become his teacher in all things (in the eyes of the aesir). 

 

Modi was curious about his ‘father’, this Thor, this storm god that had been a shadow above his head as long as he had been alive. No one Modi knew had a father— not Loki, not Baldur, and if Sif ever had one, she certainly did not speak of him with fondness. He didn’t see what the big fuss was about it, but the Norns forbid Sif ever hear such a thing fall from his lips.

 

Sif made it her business to be Thor’s advocate in all things; to Modi, she spoke incessantly of him— of his strength, his kindness, his good leadership and healthy sense of fun, his wicked, spontaneous plans, his love of battle—

 

Modi wondered if Thor loved him half as much as he seemed to love all those other things. It was not a feeling he would dare speak of to Loki, lest he enrage and drive away the only parent he knew. 

 

Once, when he was very young, he’d found Loki in their jotun skin, brushing their long black hair in front of the mirror. He was enchanted by the sea of black; in those days, he’d looked at the golden hair that sprouted from his own head and prayed that he would be a shapeshifter too so he could turn it black. 

 

He’d been so enchanted, he’d run right up to his fore, and said cheerily, “Mother, your hair is so beautiful!”

 

Loki’s slap had caught him off guard, a solid backhand across the face, glancing off a small jaw. 

 

“Who has taught you this filthy aesir word?” they’d said, hands trembling. “Who has taught you to call me mother?”

 

Hiccoughing and choking back a sob, Modi had laid on the ground touching his cheek. “Grandmother, fore--fore—”

 

Loki had sighed harshly through their nose, scooping up Modi and laying him gently on their lap. They ran cold fingers through soft hair in a wordless apology. 

 

“Mother implies there will be, or has been a father, but we jotun do not have mothers and fathers. We have what is ours, and when you are old enough you will have what is yours. Children must be given to us, yes, but we do not fit neatly into such prisons as ‘mother’ and ‘father’. Out there, we shall pretend, and you shall be Thorson and I Laufeyson, but in here, I am nothing more than foreldar, understood?”

 

Modi had nodded. “And I am kinomme.”

 

The next day, Loki had shorn off his great black tail, and ever since kept it neatly slicked back, never letting it grow beyond the nape of his neck.       

Any mention of Thor could incite Loki to anger, and Modi did not like the idea of driving him away. Modi knew on Asgard he would be fine, but as he’d grown older, the more he realized he served as a tenuous tether to Loki’s restraint. 

 

So he said nothing of the things Sif told him, of her and Thor’s great quests across the Nine Realms, and especially nothing of their last quest to Midgard. 

 

He told Loki nothing of his own excursions to the ever-expanding, ever changing mortal realm. He had a feeling Loki already knew, and had no objection to them. Oftentimes, Modi took Baldur with him, and together the two of them sought pleasure.

 

But those had all stopped when Sif and her Warriors brought back another gem. Modi knew not which one it was, but they had been triumphant and smug, and together all the warriors had feasted for a fortnight straight. 

 

A year after the celebrations, tragedy struck, and tens of thousands of dark nightmares from the space between the realms had surged up from the yawning chasm over which the Bifröst stood.

They warred for a season straight, until Odin Allfather shattered the Bifröst and closed the gap somewhat. Monsters still roamed the land, overtaking all of the realm until the palace alone remained a citadel for the aesir. 

 

And still, Thor had not returned. 

 

“So you have found the last one?” 

 

“Yes, and you shall seek it out, and close the gap forever.”

 

Modi closed his eyes. 

 

For the past year, only Modi and Loki, who knew the ways of the secret paths between worlds, had been able to go off planet and travel the realms. Under the nose of Odin, Loki had been searching out the Norn Stones, magical amplifiers of great power. Already, they had sent out Modi to retrieve six, and the last two they’d fetched themselves when Odin fell into the sleep and Modi had to serve as regent. 

 

“Where is it?” Modi asked, fingers crossed. If his own divinations had been correct…

 

“Ah, but you should know already,” Modi could feel Loki’s grin, “In your favorite place of course. On Midgard, the planet Earth, in its highest and most inhospitable mountains, lies the stronghold of their realm’s sorcerers.”

 

The braids were fixed, and Loki ran long, manicured fingers through even longer blond hair.

 

“You have one month, kinomme.”  

 

* * *

 

It was easy enough to get to Midgard. This was a path he was familiar with and tread easily. 

 

It opened up in a city called London, and from there, Modi teleported easily to the location of his desire. 

 

Unlike either of his notoriously spontaneous parents, Modi was a young man of deliberation and planning. He rarely charged headfirst into a situation, nor was he easily distracted or prone to changing his goals on a whim.     

He had been waiting for months for his fore to send him to Midgard, and in the uncanny way that Loki seemed to know things, they had waited as long they could before sending Modi back to Midgard. 

 

Modi had no intention of hunting down the final Norn stone. With the Norn stone, Loki could close the open portal that allowed the things between realms to flock into Asgard by the thousands. 

 

With what Modi had in mind, he could  _ unmake _ them. 

 

It was easy enough to pry the final locations out of Sif. He had earned a reputation for being trustworthy, and a good secret-keeper besides, and when he had expressed his desire to hear more of his father, Sif had taken him in confidence. 

 

The Infinity Stones were the artifacts of creation, the last remnants of the powers that had created the Nine Realms. 

 

Sif and the Warriors Three had been tasked with retrieving one of the gems when the Dark Elves had discovered its location. After the aether had been uncovered, the four of them had quested to return the other six gems from their various hiding places and nearly succeeded. 

 

Then, the things had risen from the depths of space and swarmed Asgard, easily overtaking their defenses through sheer volume. A few heroes— Modi, Baldur, and the Warriors Four among them— had fought them off in the end.

 

Modi was tired of death.

 

Loki had instilled in his son an appreciation for esoteric knowledge, and so after a research binge, he’d discovered that the monsters they’d fought were only the start. 

 

With every gem on Asgard but two, their master would come. Thanos, the Mad Titan,coming to remake the universe in the image of his unwitting mistress, Death. 

 

But the gauntlet was on Asgard, and if Modi could just get to it first…

 

A king could not be a man ruled by his desires, but Modi just had so many! Had he the reality gauntlet, he could undo all that Asgard had suffered. He could unmake the incomprehensible abominations that made their way up the tree into Asgard. He could unmake the Mad Titan, and make it so that Nidhogger never existed so that no one would fear his fore again. 

He could make it so that he was a real jotun and didn’t have to pretend to be be aesir, to have a father and whatever that was supposed to entail. He could make it so that all his skin was blue, not just his stupid ears and toes, make his hair black as pitch and eyes red as blood. 

 

He could make himself and his his realm right.

 

He could finally do something his stupid father couldn’t! 

 

What was a stupid little Norn stone in the face of all that possibility?

 

Modi retreated to the Denali, a powerful mountain in the US that served as one of the foci for Earth’s mystical energies. From there, it was easy enough to locate various powerhouses on Midgard— at least, on Earth. To the East, he could sense the Norn Stone easily. 

 

To the West, the immutable, infinite energy that had to have been the Space Stone.

 

Other power sources flickered, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

 

Heimdall was watching. He turned to the East.

 

But, he  was ever Loki’s child. He turned, and focused his energy to the West and teleported to where he knew the Cube to be.

 

Sif and the Warriors Three sought to assimilate the stones for the Allfather’s purpose. Being the regent King of Asgard, it was certainly no crime to turn that purpose to his own?

 

* * *

 

The Cube was in the possession of the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., and, as Modi soon discovered, these agents led very, very dull lives. 

 

Much of their days they spent staring at screens, deliberating courses of actions, and watching people, ordering assassinations, weapons peddling and running experiments that failed most of the time. Then, the black suits went home to live lonely nights, occasionally hiring paid company. 

 

After observing them for a week, noting the patterns, time schedules, and personnel, Modi made his move. 

 

It was easy enough to pilfer an ID card from an exhausted sanitarian— a much overlooked person who had access to almost every part of the complex— and to stride through the room on light, invisible toes. Being a high-security complex that needed to be able to destroy all evidence without a trace, few things were saved on a vulnerable, hackable network.

 

He swiped up notes and recordings of the day’s data of the Space Gem— the mortals called it the Tesseract, a good enough name for the artifact, he supposed. 

 

When he got close enough  to the exposed gem, he could hear it, feel its power hum through him like waves crashing over a beach; blinding, steady, and rhythmic.

 

He stood in front of the armored door even the janitor had not had access to, eyes closed and mouth slack.

 

The Tesseract did not speak in words, or even feelings and concepts. Its power was beyond that, and almost beyond Modi own understanding. Its sentience brushing against his own mind felt almost like the pressure of the paths between worlds. It felt good, like going on an adventure, like the freedom he’d only ever dreamed of having.

 

The freedom he would have had if his father were not a wretched coward.

 

There was no way he was going to get into the room without brute force, and if he had to use brute force, people were going to die. That was not the smartest thing to do if half the stories Lady Sif told about Thor were true. 

 

Modi was sure of his own power, being one of the strongest fighters in Asgard, but Thor had been about to force Loki to do something they hadn’t wanted to do. The only other being Modi could think of who’d been capable of such a feat had been Odin Allfather at the height of his power, and Modi knew he couldn’t defeat the Allfather. Heimdall, who had always distrusted Loki, would certain obey Thor over the jotun Thorson. He’d implied as much before. 

 

If Modi fought Thor in Midgard, he’d be without allies, at the mercy of a stranger he only vaguely remembered. 

 

A warm hand, heavy on his head. A strong arm around his waist, cool armor knocking against knobbly knees. 

A lingering ghost of bitterness. The source of all of his foreldar’s suffering. 

 

An agent collided with him suddenly, sending the both of them tumbling to the ground in his distracted state of mind. The Tesseract’s voice was blotted out by the roar of the mundane world.

 

“Fuck!” the agent shouted, pushing himself to his hands and knees and scrambling to get to his feet. “What was that?”

 

At his shout, another agent poked their head through a door. “What is wrong with you Carl?”

 

“Check the sensors!” the newly named Carl cried out, yanking out a lethal looking glowing red gun. 

 

It was too late by then; Modi had already made his escape, heart pounding. The alarm had rung just as he made his exit; his magic had been detected by the sensors.     

 

He would have to infiltrate by more mundane means, it seemed.

 

Lonely S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were easy prey, as far as Modi was considered. Though Loki disdained such methods, Modi was well versed in using his beauty as a weapon, as his foreldar had. He even had the benefit of being more conventionally attractive. 

 

By the standards of this part of Earth, Modi was under-aged and he looked it. But he was tall, with a lithe and fit body and big blue eyes. Tight pants, a mesh shirt, and a doe-like inviting pout were more than enough to catch the attention of one Dr. Edwin Fricker, Assistant Project Manager of the Scylla Corps. Clean Energy Initiative on craigslist.

 

It had taken seven days before the young scientist replied to advertisement. The base was stationed so far out in the desert there was only one town within fifty miles. All the scientist personnel slept in the one inn in town. 

 

Playing the naive runaway strapped for cash and willing to do anything was enough to convince the man to allow him into his personal rooms. He’d let him lie him down in bed, and allowed Fricker to strip him naked, felt the scientist’s hot hands clutch his thighs—

 

Modi reached up and snapped the man’s neck with a twitch of his wrists. 

 

He tossed the corpse aside carelessly, like so much trash, slid off the bed, and gathered up the man’s papers and identification. He then perused the room, throwing open doors and drawers, pulling out things that were useful and discarding things that weren’t.  

 

After he dressed in the man’s S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, he flopped on the bed and waited for the sun to rise.

 

The commute was short the following day, and entering the building with Dr. Fricker’s ID was even easier. No one paid him any mind, for he was just another faceless body in a boring uniform. Even swiping into the top-secret research facility was so easy he was beginning to become suspicious. 

His staff was a comforting weight up his sleeve. The deeper into the facility he ventured, the more suspicious and strange looks he received. Cold-eyed women strode past, their heels click-clacking loudly on the dusty tile.

 

Then, he felt it.

 

The Tesseract welcomed him, pulsing brightly. Its blue glow seemed to be the only light in the room. A withered old mortal hovered over it, muttering loudly. Its light reflected back in his eyes, and Modi realized, that just as he could the Tesseract’s voice, so too could this mortal. 

 

A wave of jealousy overcame, and thoughtlessly, he raised his hand, casting one of the few spells he had affinity for. 

 

A rush of electricity overcame the old man, and his heart jolted, beating violently, until it beat so hard it ruptured. Eyes bulging, a trickle of blood dripped from his nose as his body slid to the ground with a meaty smack. 

 

Heeding the Tesseract’s call, he stepped forward and drew it from it’s confinement. It wanted to reach out, and show him all the spaces between, just like fore had. 

All eyes were on him now, as were drawn guns. He slid his staff out from his sleeve, and waved it, the rush of wind concussing the assailants that surrounded him. Cracked skulls surely abounded. 

 

Within him flowed the blood of storm, fire, and ice giants; the mortals in his way stood no chance. 

 

With Tesseract in his left hand and staff in right, he strode out, a path in bright blue lit up in his mind’s eye, courtesy of the Infinity Cube.

 

He felt, for the first time in his life, invincible. 

 

A sharp grin twisted full lips as he sauntered out. Smirking directly at the recording eyes he could feel, he almost dared his father to come after him.   

**Author's Note:**

> "Kinomme" is a pet name for one's child I made up. The more formal version would be "my own" as Loki calls Modi in domestic vice. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! You all know comments are my lifeblood~ Next update will be Thing in the Curtains. :)


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